


Almost Like You're Asking For It

by opheliasparks



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Discipline, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Kink, Rope Bondage, Sensation Play, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliasparks/pseuds/opheliasparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do we need to have a conversation about how you keep interrupting me?" </p><p>Or</p><p>Five Times Mike Ross Can't Follow a Simple Rule and One Time Harvey Specter Makes Him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Times

"Do we need to have a discussion about how you keep interrupting me?"

The tone is playful, but Mike knows Harvey. He can hear the warning under it, can see the sharpness to the smirk being leveled at him. Unfortunately, Mike's sense of self-preservation has never been nearly as well developed as his keen observational skills. He hears the warning, sees the danger, and barrels on through. Mike flashes a grin at Harvey, then proceeds to interrupt him three more times in the space of the conversation.

He gets away with it for the day, but by the end of work he can tell that Harvey's patience is really wearing thin over this particular issue. His control is still superb, of course, so anyone who didn't have his peculiar memory and a nearly obsessive mental catalogue of the moods and tics of Harvey Specter probably wouldn't notice. But his tie is a little off-center from where he's adjusted it one too many times, the way he gestures when Mike has interrupted him again is a little sharper than normal. There's something dangerous behind his eyes. Something small in Mike thrills that he's pushed his boss this far, and he wonders what the consequences for his actions will be. 

"So I think that concludes our work for the day, head home and see if--"

"Aw, Harvey, don't tell me you're going to give me more work tonight." Harvey's eyes flash and Mike can tell he's really done it this time. That suspicion is confirmed when Harvey lashes out.

"Michael." It's terse and cold, and Mike freezes, knowing he must have a little deer-in-the-headlights thing going on with his face right now, but he can't help it. 

"Yes, Harvey?" There's a long pause. Mike watches Harvey war for control, knows he wants to say something, do something that will put his mouthy little associate back in his place. It's a tense 20 seconds, and Mike would swear he can see the conflict going on inside Harvey's head, the pull between what he wants and what he knows is appropriate. Can see when Harvey's better judgement wins out, and he pushes down the darker urges, locking them away again for the night.

"Go home, Mike." He sounds a little tired, like the battle he just won wore him out a little. Mike deflates, knowing he'd missed out on... something. Something that might have been really good if Harvey hadn't chosen the safe path. He nods quickly and leaves Harvey's office without another word.

\--

It's another few weeks before Mike has found another button to push, and it's a much smaller button. He knows that most of Harvey's records are absolutely off-limits to him. He can look, he can shift the paper sleeves to get a better sense of what's hiding where, but he is not supposed to take them off the shelf. He's absolutely not supposed to take the pliable plastic disks out of the protective covers. And more than anything else, he's not supposed to put a record on the turntable without Harvey's explicit instruction. He knows this.

But he's celebrating! Mike and Harvey have just closed a major case, and they won big. They'd thrown Louis off his game, made Jessica proud (visibly and audibly), and most important-- they'd won their client a huge amount of money. The billable hours alone were insane. So he ignores the rules, not bothering with searching the shelves (hello, eidetic memory, he's had the placement of every record on those shelves memorized since his first week at Pearson Hardman), and zooms in on one of Harvey's favorite records. One Mike can also recognize the merit in. It's a smooth, low jazz number that is hardly suitable for this kind of celebration, but he knows his boss. Harvey would rather have this than something Mike would choose on his own. 

Mike is just settling the album onto the turntable, about to (carefully, thank you very much) drop the needle on the spinning plastic, when Harvey walks in the door. Mike hears his shoes on the carpet, maybe, or just has a 6th sense about when his vaguely terrifying superior is around, so he's tempted to spin around and hide his actions, stop what he's doing, or make any other change of tactic that might get him out of this mess. Instead, he bulls ahead, too flush on his success and maybe, just maybe pushing the buttons on purpose at this point. Waiting to see what will happen. So there's a soft saxophone starting to warble as he spins on his heel, grinning broadly at Harvey in a way that he knows makes him look like the puppy Harvey so often says that he is. The jazz behind him is starting to pick up volume and tempo as Mike watches Harvey continue his briefly aborted movement toward his desk.

It's past 8, so the lights are off in the hallway, only a desk lamp an the New York skyline lighting Harvey's office. In the dim light, Harvey looks... dangerous. Admittedly, something about Harvey always looks a little dangerous. He's a shark among defenseless fish, sleek and opportunistic, with a bit of flash that tends to hide the effectiveness of his teeth until they're buried in the next victim. But in this mix of shadow and gold, there's something else that strikes Mike. Harvey is still sharp, so sharp he'd slice himself just by brushing against the edge of the man's wide presence. Sharp enough to make Mike bleed, and his grin falters just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Oh good, I can see by your face that I don't have to explain what you're doing wrong." Harvey's voice is smooth, and there's a smile on his face that isn't matched entirely by the tone. "I know the problem here isn't your memory, so do you want to enlighten me as to why you're touching things that don't belong to you?" Mike's grin fades away entirely as he tries to get his bearings. He needs to know how much trouble he's in, but trying to read Harvey in a mood and lighting like this isn't easy. 

"I put on something you like, Harvey," And there's a whine to his voice that he hates, but it's his only defense at the moment. "I wanted to celebrate the case!"

"So do you normally celebrate by breaking the rules? Oh, right. Of course you do. At least I can be happy you didn't decide to go get high." And Mike deflates entirely. He isn't sure that's a fair accusation at this point. All he did was put on some fucking music, and Harvey has to bring up his past failings like they're current ones. His grin from before has morphed entirely into a scowl and he stalks over to the couch across from Harvey's desk, pushing himself away from the knife-edge temper that's threatening him here. "Come here, Mike," Harvey says, before he can get as far as flopping down onto the leather sofa. Mike feels a little ridiculous turning and practically unmaking the decision to move away, and somehow the slight humiliation feels intentional. Like Harvey waited for that exact moment. 

When he's standing in front of Harvey's desk, hands in the pockets of his too-expensive-but-not-good-enough-for-Harvey suit pants, he feels even more ridiculous. It's almost like being back in high school, a sullen teenager called before the principal for some dumb stunt. 

"It's just a record and record player." He says, playing up the sulking just a little bit more, securing the image of sullen schoolboy by pouting, just a little. Harvey stands and walks around his desk to meet Mike at the front of it. He's quiet as he steps closer to his associate, crowding into the smaller man's space and forcing him to tilt his head up to continue to hold his gaze. There's something defiant in Mike's stance, and what Harvey wouldn't give to just... but no. He isn't even touching Mike, not crossing that line, not yet. But he's going to make his point here. 

"It's not about the record, Mike." Harvey says, voice low and dangerous. "It's about obedience." And he can see Mike's spine stiffen, hear the small intake of air as his jaw firms and pupils blow wide. Just for a moment, the conflict in Mike's brain is obvious. He doesn't obey people, but Harvey isn't people, and Mike knows it, knows that this isn't the same as the principal's office, not at all. "It's about following rules, and it's about respect. You don't respect my space, Mike, and that tells me you don't respect me. And I don't allow disrespect." He takes one perfect step closer, so close he can feel Mike's breath on his cheek but far enough that they still aren't touching. Mike is backed up against the front of Harvey's desk, and he hasn't so much backed away as tried to sink into himself, to make himself smaller without moving or giving any indication of what he's doing.

Harvey isn't exactly threatening him, and Mike can tell the difference. This isn't about a physical menace, just a well-controlled, absolutely understanding effort to push his presence and energy into Mike's space. To hold that knife edge personality against Mike when he is vulnerable, and to the make the point that Harvey is in control here. In control as always. It still isn't what Mike is looking for though. Isn't enough. So even though he nods, and grits out a quiet "I understand, Harvey," before the other man backs away, he isn't satisfied. And he isn't convinced. His self-preservation hasn't kicked in quite enough to keep him from taking the record off the turntable, slipping it carefully into the paper sleeve, and then shelving it incorrectly before he leaves the office. Again, this isn't an issue of memory, and he'll be perfectly capable of putting it in its correct place once Harvey catches him and tell hims to put it back. It's just... he had to. He just has to keep pushing.

\--

"You don't ride your bicycle to court!" It's not quite a yell, but it's something close, and Mike doesn't even get a chance to defend himself- he didn't have the cab fare, he didn't have the time, it was only a 5 minute ride from where he'd been and the cab would have taken twice the time, he doesn't even look that disheveled- before Harvey is pointing imperiously out the door. "You're benched for this one, rookie. Get back to the office and try to remember what I tell you if you want back on the court ever again." Mike mopes a little as he walks out, tempted to tell Harvey that the basketball metaphor had been a little much, but not wanting to lose his job.

\-- 

Harvey isn't even in the office the next time Mike steps over one of the innumerable lines that have been drawn in the sand. This time, it's Donna who catches him, and Mike knows that's probably actually worse. It's only been about three days since the record incident, and only about 15 hours since Harvey finally realized that the record wasn't in its proper location and made Mike re-shelve it (and reorganize and catalogue the entire collection) under close scrutiny. 

This mistake isn't even that dire, or particularly intentional. He just doesn't want Louis mad at him, and somehow that makes him forget that having Harvey mad at him would be significantly worse. He spends an afternoon when Harvey is out of the office prioritizing the work that Louis has assigned him, thinking he could just get to Harvey's work before he came back. The plan would have worked perfectly if Donna hadn't asked for the brief Harvey had assigned him, and if he had been better prepared with a bribe. He isn't prepared though, and he can tell by the look on Donna's face that her progress report (and he wouldn't ever be convinced that she didn't give Harvey progress reports-- he knows that they sometimes think of him like an errant schoolboy) is going to be less than favorable. 

"It's almost like you're just trying to give him a reason to punish you for real, Mike," Donna says, and it strikes a chord in Mike that he knew was there but hasn't been played in years. She twitches away from him, leaving him standing in the break room with a deep frown and a sinking sensation that he's going to pay for this.

He also hurries off to get Harvey's work done as quickly as possible, knowing it won't save him from his fate, but it might do something to take the edge off Harvey's ire.

\---

It's a muzzy, sun-washed Saturday morning when Harvey's judgement falls in the form of Mike's cellphone ringing. It's officially too early, and the first weekend day he has had off in nearly a month, but Mike knows better than to ignore the call. He's gotten himself in enough trouble lately. He fumbles for his phone and pulls it to his face without even opening his eyes (of course he has a personal vibration set for Harvey; a ringtone too, for the rare occasions when he doesn't or shouldn't have the device silenced.) 

"Whazzat?" He manages, not nearly his articulate self at 6:30am on his day off. He can hear Harvey make a small undignified snorting sound in hear ear, just the hint of a chuckle, before the levity is gone and Harvey's very serious voice is replacing the moment of fondness. 

"Be at my apartment by 8, rookie. Do not be late. This isn't Pearson Hardman business, this is a personal settling of accounts. Dress well, but not one of those atrocities you call a suit. Eat a good breakfast. Don't. Be. Late." And his boss is hanging up before Mike can get a word in edgewise, before he's really had time to properly process the situation. Harvey's apartment? Personal settling of accounts? What the fuck is going on here? The confusion really should be enough to wake him up, he knows that. But at the same time, Mike really doesn't think he can be blamed for falling back asleep and chalking the whole thing up to a weird stress-induced dream. 

When he wakes back up at 7:30 and checks his phone, there's definitely a little panic setting in almost immediately. Harvey really had called. Harvey really expects him at his apartment in half an hour, ambiguously "well dressed" and having eaten breakfast. Mike isn't sure which one he sacrifices first, but he knows right away that there's no chance he'll be on time. So he might as well shoot Harvey a text, bolt down a quick breakfast, and then hit the road.

He settles for a nice pair of dark blue jeans and a deep, forest green sweater to fight the lingering chill. Both are well-worn, but they would satisfy his Grammy so they better work for Harvey. He slips on loafers (it actually does appall him that he now owns loafers of all things) shoves a microwave breakfast burrito in his mouth, and sprints down the stairs. Again, he decides that his bike will be quicker than a cab, and he rides hard, pitting himself against the clock and New York City traffic with equal determination and assurance of risk. It's 8:23 by the time he's locked his bike and taken the public elevator up to Harvey's apartment. He stands outside the door, almost afraid to knock, for another 2 minutes, but hesitating too long will only make him more late, not less terrified. 

He knocks, and it's almost another full minute before the door opens. Mike is almost dangerously distracted by the soft look of Harvey outside the office; he's wearing blue jeans that are just this side of pleated and a heather gray t-shirt that looks touchable soft and clings to his well-developed pecs. The sight is so universally appealing that Mike almost (only almost) misses the barely banked fury in Harvey's eyes. 

"You're late, Mike. Can't you manage to do anything like I ask you to?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this baby is totally un-beta'd and not exactly my first attempt at writing fic, but my first work in the fandom and the first that I really believe I'll finish. I'm really almost there. It's also my first attempt at the 5+1 format, so I hope I got it right.


	2. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he would pay for the decisions he'd made, but he hadn't expected to be made so complicit.

Given the harsh tone in Harvey's voice, Mike almost expects to be thrown out again, but somehow that doesn't happen. The look on Harvey's face doesn't change, though, as he steps back from the door and lets Mike walk through. He closes the door then walks around Mike to lead him through the open floor plan apartment over to the area designated by the couches and entertainment center as "living room." The array set out on the coffee table gives Mike his third shock of the very short morning: bundles of dyed-dark rope, expertly looped together and arranged carefully on the glass surface, next to a variety of implements running from mundane to... Weird. And before he knows it, Mike's mouth is running away from him.

"Oh of course, control freak Harvey Specter, bondage would be your thing, wouldn't it? Got to stay in control, don't you? Is that hemp or some kind of nylon? No you'd never use synthetic, the quality just isn't the same. The deep red suits you, but at the same time it's just hopelessly stereotypical, don't you think? I really would have pegged you for a blue or green guy, but this makes sense too." And he knows he's babbling, just letting words roll off his tongue like he has no control of them at all, but really if he wasn't a little shellshocked by this, there'd be more to worry about. He's not really freaking out though, clearly not in the way Harvey expected, because the other man's face has gone a little slack. Like he expected Mike to be afraid, or confused, or run from this new revelation. But really, Mike isn't an idiot. And he's not entirely new to the world. The gob smacked look on Harvey's face (okay, the mildly surprised look by anyone else's standards) finally dries the words from Mike's lips and he starts laughing. 

"For someone who calls me a puppy at every opportunity, you seem to have expected a much more... Vanilla reaction from me." He says finally, offering a soft smile to Harvey's barely-there embarrassment. 

"You're a constant surprise, Mike." Harvey says finally, a small smile hiding around the corners of his eyes now. "Usually not in a good way, but a constant surprise." He gestures to the couch and the two of them sit, Harvey with significantly more grace and Mike with more enthusiasm. "So I'm taking your response as an indication that you're willing to have this conversation?"

"Which conversation is that, Harvey?" And there's definitely a shade of "little shit" in his tone, but he can't help it. He's never seen Harvey this unsure or unsettled and he has to take advantage. Even if he'll pay for it later (because of course he will.) He can already see the steel coming back to Harvey's spine.

"The conversation about how we're going to address your inability to remember and follow a simple rule." And it's back fully, Harvey have regained his master-of-the-universe posture and tone. Mike isn't an idiot. He knows this has been coming. This revelation, this conversation. He just wasn't expecting it to happen this early on a Saturday morning, or quite the frankness with which Harvey was apparently intending to address the issue. But he's been preparing. Doing some reading, which part of him is desperate to rifle through in his brain right now. Harvey has dropped enough hints over the past few weeks, especially as Mike's fuck-ups have become a little more common and obvious. They probably wouldn't be noticeable to anyone but himself, Donna, and maybe Jessica, but Mike pays a lot of attention to Harvey. He has since the moment they met. 

"Oh right, that conversation. Yeah, I guess I'll consent to it." He can be obvious too, and he can be a pretty near match to a brat when it suits him. The line gets him narrowed eyes from Harvey, but he's clearly trying to keep the situation under control.

"So you aren't surprised by the rope. Don't think I'll be forgetting that "control freak" comment though. Do you have practical experience in this area or are you just... Well read?" And there's an interesting mix of a dig at Mike's tendency to rely on his eidetic memory and a rare caution on Harvey's part. Mike forces himself to relax a little, working up the courage to be honest and put trust in the man sitting across from him.

"A mix of both. The college experience may not have stuck for me, but I guess I didn't miss the college experiment phase. There was a girl..." And Harvey headed him off with a careless gesture. That was apparently enough of a confirmation to settle him. Mike felt like he was physically watching Harvey settle into something, some sort of mental state. It was dangerously close to the look he got before going into court, like he was on top of the world, in total control, but ready to bypass certain limitations with just the right provocation. It was a little terrifying and a lot hot as hell.

"There are some disciplinary issues I feel like we need to deal with, Mike. And I've tried taking care of them at the office, but that isn't working. The message is clearly not getting across to you, and that is unacceptable." Mike's mouth was suddenly dry as he nodded slightly. The movement caught Harvey's eye and he got a small smile for it. "This is my last ditch effort. I want to find something that will work for both of us, but you're free to walk out at any point. I don't want you to feel coerced here, Mike. This won't affect how I treat you at work, and won't change our relationship there. Are you interested in hearing my plan for dealing with your behavior?" Mike nodded again but before the motion was done Harvey was shaking his head. "No, Mike, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, I want to hear your plan." His voice was hoarse and later he would swear up and down that it didn't break, but he knows better. He already sounds a little wrecked. Just hearing Harvey lay it all out with this kind of clarity and honesty is messing with his head.

"Good. I'm glad you're on board." It isn't praise. They haven't negotioated anything enough for Harvey to be that presumptuous, but Mike feels it deep in his gut. Harvey is glad. Harvey is proud. Harvey settles himself again, and Mike can feel his down-to-business shift before he speaks. "So my plan is currently twofold. Punishment, and then a little bit of practice." Mike's breath hitches at punishment, but he'd known it was coming. Donna had practically told him it was coming.

"Practice?" He asks instead because he's not really sure where that fits into what's laid out before him. Harvey nods.

"Since you seem to have so much trouble with basic obedience, we're going to practice. After I give you an appropriate punishment for your lapses over the past few weeks, I thought we would spend some time playing with my favorite sensory toys. The only rule you have to follow while that happens is 'Don't move.' And if you can't manage it alone, that's why I have the rope out. To remind you that it's my authority you're struggling and failing to obey. That it's my will you're bending to." His eyes have been focused entirely on Mike the entire time, straight and deadly and reminding Mike that he's going up against the best closer in the city. If Harvey is scared or reticent now, he wouldn't let it show if his life depended on it. Mike knows his face must be giving everything away, as it almost always does, particularly in Harvey's presence. "How does that sound, Mike?"

"Um... Good, Harvey. It sounds good." He had almost nodded again, but remembers Harvey's reaction from the first time and knows the verbal response is better. He gets a smile and a nod for his efforts and knows again that Harvey is proud. See? He can learn.

"And what do you think an appropriate punishment would be?" Mike's head snaps up from where he's begun to examine the instruments on the table before him and his brow furrows. Why is Harvey asking him? "I don't know you well enough yet to know what would be punishment, Mike. And we haven't had nearly enough discussion for me to decide this. Tell me what you think would work. And please, Mike, be honest."

And experiment phase or not, this is where it gets hard. This is where things get real. This is Harvey freaking Specter sitting in front of him and asking how he wants to be punished, and Mike's brain is blank and empty and quiet for nearly the first time he can remember and he doesn't know what to say. But he pushes ahead, for himself and for Harvey. Mostly for Harvey. He'd do just about anything for Harvey.

"A spanking is fairly traditional isn't it?" He knows that it is, and also that it would work.

"What about it is punishment for you? Is pain not something that you enjoy?" And Mike can smile a little again at the mostly concealed surprise in Harvey's tone. Is he really that easy to read? Has Harvey really figured him out that much already?

"It's... No, Harvey, I like pain. It's more about the... Humiliation?" And he's talking on pure instinct at this point, barely hearing himself, just knowing that honesty is what Harvey wants and what everyone who's had him in this position has wanted. "I'm a grown man and being pulled over someone's knee and being made to endure a spanking like I'm a child is... It's difficult. It will get the point across, I can promise you that." He knows he's piqued Harvey's curiosity now, knows that the voice of experience speaking from him is almost too tempting to pass up but he's made it this far and can't stop now. Can't explain yet either because then he'll definitely lose his courage.

Harvey waits to see if Mike has anything else to add before nodding and standing up. He walks out of the room and Mike is a little surprised but a little grateful. He takes the opportunity to adjust himself in his pants, and to scowl down at his dick for getting hard in a situation like this. Sure it's fairly normal, but he still really isn't entirely ready for these pieces of his world to mix so thoroughly. And just describing the humiliation in an over the knee spanking should not be enough to turn him on, but being that vulnerable in front of Harvey Specter... Well it would have an effect on just about anyone, he's sure. Harvey comes back in with a glass of water and presses it into Mike's hand.

"Drink this. You've done really well so far, Mike. Thank you for your honesty." And it's still not praise. Not quite, but it's more effusive than he's used to hearing from Harvey, and it's just as affecting as the conversation. He sighs, accepts the glass of water, and drinks the whole thing down at once. Harvey smiles and takes the glass from him to set it on a side table. He drops one hand to ruffle through Mike's hair, and Mike would resent it a little if it didn't work so well to soothe him. Of course Harvey knows that as well. "So a spanking would be adequate punishment for you? I suppose that's where we'll start, then."

Just like that he's un soothed again, practically ruffling his feathers or raising his metaphorical hackles. Mike knows that by handing Harvey that information he was definitely inviting this course of action. Hell his behavior over the past month has basically been begging for this course of action, with what Harvey had apparently guessed about him and what he's spent time assuming about Harvey. This was going to happen. Still, he looks up at Harvey with eyes deer-wide and a little panicked, and he finds a strong hand carding through his hair again.

"Do I need a safeword, Harvey?" The question is out of his mouth before he can really process it, but he's good. He's done his research and lived his experiences. He knows this is important.

"No. Your only safeword here today is no. You say no, it doesn't happen. We don't continue. There will be no repercussions personally or professionally. I'm not playing with non-consent here, Mike. I just think this will work, and I think it will help. And if you're interested and on board, I want to help. But the instant this isn't working for you, we're done." Mike breathes a soft sigh of relief. Somehow, this is not what he had been expecting, but it's exactly what he needs. This isn't a game, not to him or to Harvey. This is real life. This is his choice.

"Up, Mike, and clothes off. How naked are you comfortable with? If that question is too hard to answer on its own, think about what would make this a most effective punishment for you, and undress to that degree. Quickly." The tone of Harvey's voice has changed such that Mike doesn't hesitate to obey. He has a lot of practice obeying that tone at the drop of a hat, either from his time working for Harvey or his time doing other things with other people. He stands, pausing long enough to get his bearings, read his own comfort level, and respond to the challenge Harvey has set before him. He knows exactly what would make this most effective, and the fact that he's being forced to make that decision and admission is only making it work more. He pulls off the deep green sweater, laying it over the back of Harvey's sofa (not quite casually, but not really neatly either) before following up with his jeans. Under these he's wearing soft boxer briefs in light blue. His socks come off last (his shoes came off at the door under Harvey's pointed gaze) and suddenly he's standing in his boss's swank uptown condo in nothing but his underwear.

He faces Harvey again, knowing that he's already flushing red from his face down his neck, and drops his chin a little. Harvey nods and gestures wordlessly at the boxer briefs, clearly questioning the decision to keep them on. Mike pauses again before once again pushing past his own reticence to give Harvey the honesty he's asked for. "Uhh... It will actually work better if they stay on? But you pull them out of your way." And the flush has definitely spread down his chest and he's not sure how he looks or how Harvey is taking any of this in because he can't look at him, can't make eye contact, not now. He's half hard behind the boxer briefs, still just thinking of the almost freezing humiliation and fear/anticipation of what's about to happen.

Harvey moves in close, crowding into Mike's space as he had done that night in the office, almost-but-not-quite touching, his clothed body providing a sharp contrast to Mike's own vulnerability. Harvey presses a finger lightly against Mike's chin to force him to meet the taller man's eyes and regards him very seriously.

"Are you ready to begin?" He asks, eyes searching for something Mike knows must be showing on his face because Harvey has begun to smile before he can even speak. Mike wets his lips carefully and nods a little, resisting the pressure of Harvey's hand under his face.

"Yes." 

Before he can really process what's happening, Harvey has stepped back and sat on the couch again, and Mike is expecting to be pulled with him, to have this moment spared him by Harvey's overpowering body and will. Instead, Harvey smiles up at Mike and gestures to his lap.

"I assume you know what I mean when I say 'assume the position'." And Mike could almost hate him for the cliched line and could almost love him for it and could almost hate him again for once again making this Mike's decision, making it his own agency to submit to the punishment Harvey has decided. But Mike drops to his knees, a little gracelessly, and pulls himself over Harvey's lap, situating his ass as well as he can just to the right of center, trying desperately not to press his dick too obviously against Harvey's leg. Harvey strokes a hand down his spine before adjusting him slightly, pulling his hands forward so they're pressed to the ground on the other side of his knees. He runs a hand along Mike's legs as well until they are stretched out behind him. Most of Mike's weight is resting firmly on Harvey's lap so his hands and legs serve only to stabilize him, and make him feel awkward. The position is necessarily awkward, and a little ungainly. Mike is not sized perfectly to fit across a grown man's lap, too tall and too lanky, but it only adds to the burning embarrassment of the situation, only pushes him further into the headspace of a chastised youth.

"Well I'm glad you didn't manage to screw that up, rookie," Harvey says, but his harsh words are belied by the hand smoothing again down Mike's back. But he does have to remember that this is a punishment. "I'm going to ask a little more from you before we're through here. We are going to go through each of the infractions you're being punished for, and you're going to tell me how many swats you think you deserve for each one. If I agree, that's how many you get. If I don't, I double your number. At least. How does that sound?"

It sounds just short of terror, but somehow fair, and somehow exactly what he deserves. This is how Harvey is maintaining his consent and his ability to say no. This is how Harvey is keeping him in the moment, and aware of the purpose of the entire exercise. So Mike nods, despite how he feels about being made to do this. He nods because it's right.

"That sounds fair, Harvey." The hands slides down his back in obvious approval before it suddenly grabs the band of his underwear and pulls them down out. They're out of Harvey's way now, and Mike's last defense is gone. Harvey shoves the elastic band down until it's tucked just under the flesh of Mike's ass, pulling the fat and muscle into an appealing platform. There isn't much fat to be found (Mike does ride a bike over the entirety of the city of New York, after all) but Harvey manages to find a handful and grab, massaging it lightly and derailing Mike's train of thought near-completely.

"First, you spent a whole day interrupting me at every possible opportunity. Even after I called you on it, a clear sign you needed to stop." Mike nods, then gives the infraction due thought. He'd been rude, and obstinate, intentionally so. He hadn't done this in front of clients or other senior partners.

"Five," He says quietly.

"I agree." And the first blow lands hardly before he registers that Harvey's hand has left his skin, and it stings, but it's bearable. The first few are always bearable. The second and third strikes still feel like warm up, like Harvey is giving the skin of Mike's ass as well as his own hand the chance to adjust to the pace and the feeling. Four and five land slower, but with more force. The sound is unbelievably loud in Mike's ears, and it seems to ring through the open floor plan of the spacious apartment. He is suddenly thankful for knowing that a building this upscale must be soundproofed.

"Second," Harvey says, and Mike can tell he's not even breathing hard yet, though Mike's breath started to hitch on the last few hits. He's pulling himself back together, but from the sound of thing Harvey isn't even getting started. "My records. You know you aren't supposed to touch them without express permission." Mike nods and pouts a little, thinking this should hardly be on the same list.

"Three," he says, then pauses and shakes his head. "Four. Because I didn't shelve it in the correct location." Harvey is running his hand over Mike's ass, which has barely started to warm, keeping the blood flowing and the physical sensation going. Just being made aware of Harvey's bare hand on his ass is making this better and worse, and he knows he hasn't stopped blushing yet. The fact that he can think through these numbers is impressive even to him.

"You're lucky you went up to four, Mike, or it would have been six. I agree." And Mike breaths a soft sigh of relief, knowing Harvey could have doubled up to eight if he had really wanted to. The moment doesn't last long though, as Harvey rains three blows in quick succession, each incredibly forceful for the time he has to pull back and wind strength again. Before the last, Mike is given just long enough to think he can breathe again before Harvey slams his cupped palm down onto Mike's left ass cheek and pulls a gasp out of him again. Harvey's hands are big, and this is not the first time he's noticed it, but boy does that fact make an impression now. One strike practically covers an entire side of his ass, and it's really starting to warm up now. So when Harvey goes back to stroking and massaging the skin, Mike can feel the echoed warmth on his palm. 

"Third, you rode your bike to court instead of catching a cab or calling the car service. You missed an entire day of education and left me without an associate in court. Not that I need one, but anything you do to mess with my rhythm on a day in court is unacceptable. What should your punishment be?" Mike tries to think about it, tries to give it the consideration Harvey undoubtedly expects, but it's difficult with the warmth building in his skin and Harvey's big hands massaging ass and leg with careless but clearly skilled enthusiasm. 

"Uh, five?" And Harvey's hand freezes and Mike knows he's in trouble now because yes, of course, of course this was worse than interruptions in front of no one, this was leaving Harvey without someone registered to be in his courtroom, this was missing a day at his side and with his guidance. This was definitely worse and the number should have been higher.

"We're going to go with eleven actually," Harvey says and Mike barely suppresses a groan. He can take eleven, sure he can take it, even the really structured ones meant to cause the most lasting pain for a hand spanking, but he's upset with himself. He should have known better. As though sensing this internal struggle, Harvey's hand begins moving again, sweeping down Mike's back, all the way down his thighs, over the bunched fabric of his underwear. "Ten to double, and one to learn from. But no beating yourself up for getting the number wrong, Mike. That's what I'm here for. That's why I get the final decision. The strikes wipe away the mistake. The original and the new. Feel it, and let go of it."

That said, the swats come down hard and measured, and he starts to squirm as the heat and the sting really build up. His face is red, he knows his ass is getting red, and he presses his face down against Harvey's thigh and calf, trying to hide from the assault but knowing better than to really try to escape it. He's painfully hard now, and maybe close to tears. Harvey knows him, Harvey understands what it's like to live in his head and constantly hold himself to an unmanageably high standard. But Harvey is here. 

The end of the 11 strikes sees him gasping and squirming, trying not to press his dick against Harvey's leg, trying not to press his sore ass up into Harvey's hand as it kneads the muscle there. It hurts but it's good and it's bad and it's so much and it's really starting to get to him. And they have at least two more to go.

"Four," Harvey says, having given Mike enough time to settle back down, relax and stop moving. He hasn't yet commented on what must be Mike's painfully obvious erection, and Mike doesn't know whether he's grateful or more embarrassed for his arousal to be ignored. This isn't meant to be something he enjoys, but something he learns from. "You prioritized Louis's work over mine. And you must know how it annoys me to bring Louis into this room at this moment at all, but it has to be dealt with. You know better, Mike. What's your number?"

 Mike thinks about this one for a long time. He can tell Harvey doesn't have a problem with it because his silence isn't interrupted or questioned. He isn't trying to escape the question, but really trying to understand what Harvey would want. What does this mistake deserve? How upset had Harvey been?

"Fifteen," He says finally, voice a little shaky as he understands what he's asking for. He knows how this will feel on top of the 20 he has already experienced. And whatever will come after. Harvey's left hand settles at the base of his neck as his right sweeps down his spine again, and he knows this is approval, this is praise.

"Good, Mike, good. You thought through it, and you answered honestly. Fifteen is high, and this deserves something that high, even in this placement. Fifteen is exactly right. I agree. We'll take them in fives." And Mike knows Harvey's hand must be starting to smart, as he rains five strikes down in quick succession, all aimed at exactly the same spot. He won't have anything as obvious as a handprint there, but it must be bright red, and will probably remain so for some time. He takes a moment to breathe between sets before the next five come down, lower on his ass, closer to the sensitive area where it meets his thighs and that's almost harder, almost impossible. It's on the last set of five, slowly and evenly delivered across both sides of his ass, that he begins to cry. This has pushed him, and he knows now that it's pushing Harvey and Harvey is doing this all for him. Doing it to help him and teach him and educate him. Doing it because he's been asking for a firm hand to keep him in line. 

The hand on his neck begins to slide carefully through his hair and the other runs over his heated skin again and again. It's spreading blood flow and sensation and warmth all through his skin and the sensations are almost as overwhelming as the feelings and he can't stop crying. He's still so hard, but he's also crying and it's a weird juxtaposition according to a very distant part of his mind.

"We're almost through, Mike. We're almost there. You're taking this well." And the outright praise sends another sob hiccuping through him, but he starts to settle. "Can you tell me what your last infraction is?"

"I was... I was late this morning, Harvey. After you told me twice not to be late."

"Good. And what does lateness earn you?" Mike tried to think through the tears and the shame and the beginning of relief.

"Four, Harvey. One for each time you told me not to be late. And two for the irritation on your face when you got to the door." He can't be sure, but Mike thinks it's the explanation that saved him from getting eight just then. The explanation, and maybe the shake the tears were putting in his voice. 

"I agree," And the four come down fast and harder than he could have thought possible with how sore Harvey's hand must be by now, two on each side of his ass. "And one more, to make it an even forty." The last falls lower, right in the middle, burning sensitive skin and shocking him a little. He yelps, an embarrassing noise that might make it all the worse if he hadn't been crying for more than five minutes now and if he could be expected to endure this silently ever. He endures nothing silently, not ever. But the punishment is over and Harvey has carefully pulled his underwear back up and has pulled Mike properly into his lap. He's wrapped his arms around Mike's body and is holding him, face pressed into his shoulder and leaking tears and snot all over his soft gray shirt. He's sweeping hands up and down Mike's spine and whispering.

"It's over now, it's over. You did so good, you were so good for me. You did your best and you answered me so well. You didn't ask for more than you could handle and you didn't ask for less. You've done so well. It's all over. All of that is forgiven. We go forward clean." And the specificity of the praise has him crying harder, and Harvey's hands have him melting against his broad chest and he feels so small and so light and he can't hardly believe this is happening and he can hardly believe they waited this long. It takes him awhile to realize he's mumbling "thank you thank you thank you" into Harvey's shoulder and it only stops when Harvey grabs his chin, tilts his head up and kisses him squarely, tears and snot and all.


	3. Mike's Practice, Harvey's Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...and Mike is just now realizing this really is a game, something fun and lighthearted but nonetheless holding the message Harvey wants, but also acting as a test of their compatibility and isn't Harvey's mind a terrifying place"

The kiss lasts almost longer than Mike can stand, long enough that he has to pull back to breathe, especially given the stuffy nose the crying has given him. Harvey's arms are still wrapped protectively around him, holding him close and supporting him. Harvey looks a little shocked himself, and a little mussed now in a way Mike has never really seen. His soft gray shirt is blotched with Mike's tears, clinging a little to his chest, and his mobile and revealing mouth is reddened and slick with spit. It settles Mike a little, just to see that Harvey is even half as affected as he has been by this whole experience. He can feel the other signs of the effect this is having, pressing hard under his thighs where he's pressed into Harvey's lap.

Mike glances down, taking in his own slightly hard dick and drawing attention to Harvey's erection. The kiss had brought back some of the interest that the pain and tears had pushed away from him, but apparently Harvey's interest hadn't waned through the whole event. A grin starts to build on Mike's face as he meets Harvey's eye again, and there's something wry there as well.

"You did really well, Mike, but I have one important question for you." Mike looks earnest and open, face still tear-streaked and looking almost young enough to be obscene in this moment. But there's a little stubble on his face from where he hadn't had time to shave that morning. "Do you think you've learned your lesson?" And Mike nods enthusiastically, prompting an honest smile from Harvey at last. "I'm happy to hear that." He pats the seat next to him, motioning Mike to move off his lap and onto the couch again. Mike doesn't pout, that wouldn't be the exact truth, but it's something close. Harvey gently pushes him aside and rises. 

Mike watches him walk away, curling into the arm of the couch, suddenly feeling too exposed in just his underwear. He'd almost begun to forget that he was nearly naked on his boss's couch, but the reality of his warm and stinging ass is bringing the whole truth crashing down. Harvey is gone for the longest three moments of Mike's life, but he returns with another class of water, a few tissues, and wearing a clean shirt. Mike accepts the glass of water, holding it in both hands and taking sips as Harvey gently cleans the tears and snot from his face. Mike never would have predicted Harvey Specter could be quite this nurturing but there's something really soothing in the revelation. 

Harvey sits back on the couch, and Mike curls into his side, still holding his glass of water in both hands, close to his chest. He feels young, feels a little vulnerable and raw still, something he feels pretty often in front of Harvey but rarely to this degree. He tilts his head up, leaning back against Harvey's shoulder when he feels a hand wrap gently and possessively around his neck. Fingers trail against his collarbone, highlight again that vulnerability. He knows Harvey wants to keep him slightly off balance.

"We still have training to go through, pup. If you're still interested." And somehow Mike had almost forgotten about the pile of rope and other things laid out on the coffee table. He doesn't jerk away from Harvey, but he stiffens a little, losing some of the lax pliable nature that comes with an intense scene. He is still interested, definitely still interested, and not nearly as scared. He knows this has been the hard part, the really unbearable thing. 

"I'm still interested if you are. I'm in all the way, Harvey, at least for today. I said yes before, and I'll keep saying it because I know you want to hear it. But I'm all in." 

"We're going to have a real conversation about this sometime very soon, Mike."

"I know. We need to. But not today. Let's see how this plays out, I'm sure it will give us plenty to talk about." Mike is decidedly not ready to have the serious conversation that will follow this intense Saturday. They need to talk about boundaries and rules, talk about power imbalance (the good kind and the bad kind), coercion and consent. They need to have that conversation, and they will. But for today he just wants to live in this moment, accept the punishment Harvey has given him, forgive himself and move on. Move on to whatever trial is set before him next. Earn a reward. Because Harvey hasn't said anything about it, but the kiss they shared said a lot anyway. There's something else under this exchange, something more between them than discipline and power.

Harvey nods, accepting Mike's deferral. For now. 

"Are you ready to start the next steps, or do you need a little more time? Either answer is honestly acceptable." The openness and honesty are the main things keeping Mike comfortable, knowing that Harvey is doing his best to be completely transparent. He's not setting Mike up to fail, but giving him all the support he needs to succeed. Mike's responsibilities are really limited here- follow Harvey's instructions, be as honest as possible. That's it. He can do that, even with all the uncertainty that comes from this situation developing so unexpectedly.

"I'm ready, Harvey."

"We're going to move this into the bedroom, if you're comfortable with that. My plan was for it to happen out here, but you've definitely earned a little more comfort than being tied to the coffee table." Mike starts a little, then grins and finally laughs again. He doesn't disbelieve what he's been told because an angry Harvey absolutely would have come up with the idea to tie him to his overly sleek modern lines dark wood coffee table, but it also makes perfect sense that this new nurturing Harvey might reconsider and realize that would be unfair.

They gather all the supplies together, Mike being entrusted with Harvey's bundles of rope (and yes, it is hemp, dyed a deep red and worn soft from frequent use and good care) and Harvey grabbing the basket full of sensory play toys. Mike pads behind Harvey, realizing only now that the heat is definitely turned up in the apartment because he hasn't gotten cold yet and he's been nearly naked for quite some time now. The two settle into the bedroom, and Mike is distracted enough by the view from Harvey's ridiculous floor-to-ceiling Windows that he almost forgets why they're there.

"Holy shit, Harvey, how do you do anything but stare out these all the time?" Mike asks, walking over to the windows to do just that, completely disregarding his lack of clothing. They're so high up here it could hardly matter. Harvey just shakes his head and moves to pull Mike back to the bed, gently disengaging him from the view of the city laid out at his feet. Knowing this now it's hardly any wonder that Harvey displays the kind of ego he does. You have to feel like a king with that sort of view, standing in the top of your ivory tower.

Mike drops the rope casually at the end of Harvey's bed, then watches as Harvey sets up his basket of toys on the nightstand, adjusting a few things in the pile before turning to face Mike.

"Still comfortable in your underwear, rookie?" Harvey asks, giving Mike a quick once-over with a slight smirk. Mike looks down at himself for a moment then nods, glancing back up at Harvey under his lashes. The smirk turns into a grin as Harvey steps forward to lay his hands on Mike's upper arm one one side and ribs on the other. "Lay down on the bed on your back, spread your arms and legs away from you body, but keep yourself comfortable. Make it a position you can hold for awhile." And he steps back, turning away as though he expects Mike will just follow the instructions with no question or hesitation.

It's a pretty fair assumption on Harvey's part because Mike jumps to, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself in the center, laid out exactly as described. He settles into the plush duvet, carefully not putting much pressure on his sore ass, and spreads his legs about shoulder width apart. His arms are resting a little away from the center of his body. He tilts his head back slightly and closes his eyes, trying to settle the jitters before they really get started. He remembers Harvey's description of what's about to happen, and he knows that he needs to get any twitchiness out of his system.

Harvey turns back when he hears that Mike is settled and still. The sight in front of him is... Riveting. Mike Ross, fake attorney, beautiful brain, mouthy and restless and infuriating and wonderful Mike Ross, laid out on top of his deep blue duvet. His bratty little associate, quiet and still and offering himself up to Harvey's will, just on Harvey's word of desire and a promise of safety. He's asked for honesty today and he's been rewarded time and again by Mike's overwhelming desire to please him and be vulnerable with him. He never expected going into this that it would go this smoothly, this beautifully. Bringing Mike to open and trusting tears during his punishment had been unexpected, and he keeps offering surprise after surprise in his willingness to go along with Harvey's plans. Clearly Mike had been expecting something like this, waiting for it to happen. Harvey, on the other hand, has been expecting to never get to act on the fantasies that have kept him up more nights than he'd like to admit, to never get to offer discipline and reward in the way that suited him best. 

He just stands and waits for a long time, watching Mike settle into his headspace, trying to avoid the restlessness he knows is coming and will work against him. Finally, Harvey steps forward and sits on the edge of the bed where he can reach Mike and his nightstand both easily.

"What's your safeword?" It takes Mike only a second, and a small twitch.

"No. Stop." He's rewarded by a hand running softly down his forearm.

"Are you okay with wearing a blindfold?" Mike hesitates, then nods, so Harvey reaches over to the basket and pulls out a soft silk sleep mask and slips the elastic band over Mike's head, adjusting it carefully.

"Is there anywhere you don't want me to touch you?" The hesitation is longer this time, and Harvey isn't sure if Mike is contemplating his own response or the implications of the question.

"Well, the bottoms of my feet are ticklish. Like really ticklish. I know that the point of the exercise is not to move and that maybe it would be a challenge of willpower or something, but I'm telling you, I'm more likely to accidentally kick you than learn anything from it so it really wouldn't be a great--" The flood of words, the most Mike has said all morning, is cut off when Harvey presses his hand to the inside of Mike's wrist. The contact is startling and settling. 

"Fair enough. Feet are off limits, at least until you've lost the privilege of having your legs unbound. Anywhere else?"

"No, Harvey. You can touch me anywhere else that you want." And of course he knows the permission that he's giving, the power he is handing over and the admission that he's making to Harvey. As if the once again visibly growing erection wasn't making all of the same promises. It was still nice to be asked. Important, even. And the brush of fingertips across his inner wrist is not approval but acceptance because his boundaries would be respected no matter what they are but Harvey recognizes the invitation and trust just as well as Mike does.

"So. Like I said before, your rules here are simple. Don't move. Don't try to run away from a sensation, don't reach out for me. You can make as much noise as you want or need to. If you need me close to feel safe, you ask. If something becomes uncomfortable or unbearable, you ask. The rules change only on my schedule and on my decision, not yours. If you can't follow the rule, whichever limb or part of you breaks it will be taken away from you, bound with rope so you cannot move it." It's a speech, and Mike can almost hear Harvey practicing it like he so rarely does even with opening statements. Maybe even the great Harvey Specter had been nervous about delivering this monologue. Mike listens carefully, head turned slightly toward Harvey even though the blindfold means he can't hold eye contact. He nods slightly, then catches himself.

"I understand. I'm ready." Harvey reaches over and pushes gently against Mike's jaw, tilting it back to center and slightly up. His fingers tap once, and somehow Mike knows this is a sign. This is the start. Immediately his hands start itching to move, but he fights against it.

From that moment is world is all sensation. Sight is taken from him and Harvey doesn't speak again, and it's just soft, large, masculine hands roaming down his neck and chest, across his nipples with the barest brush, down his arms. A single finger traces a vein in his right arm, feather-light, before a hand is applied with some pressure down his whole left side, firm and sure. There doesn't seem to be a pattern to the movement or location, just Harvey trying to learn his body, understand his responses. The hands aren't exactly trying to make it difficult to follow the single rule that has been set, but they aren't making it easy either. He wants to react to the sensation, wants to lean into a touch here or squirm away from a tickle there, but he tries his hardest to hold still. He wants to be good, wants to do this for himself and for Harvey.

After some immeasurable amount of time, Mike is definitely making noise. He's humming a little at the soothing movements, whimpering a little when Harvey's hands come close to his nipples or sweep across his hips dangerously close to his dick, and letting out little yelps when something tickles too much. It's already getting harder, definitely more difficult to do as he's told. And that's when Harvey decides to up the ante. The next sensation is different, something he probably wouldn't recognize if it weren't for that college experiment phase he mentioned earlier. Harvey is dragging a wartenburg pinwheel across his stomach, low, close to his hips, and the pinprick sensation is almost more than he can stand, how on earth is he meant to stay still through this how can he endure that sharp little menace being dragged back and forth back and forth and he whining constantly at a low volume and high pitch for a solid five seconds before he breaks and his hips rock forward and he whimpers. Mike freezes solid, barely breathing now though he wants to be panting as the wheel is pulled away from his hideously sensitized skin. 

"Strike one, Mike. You held out really well though." And that's all he gets before Harvey's weight leaves the side of the bed and he's straining to listen. He knows Harvey pushed this area first, pushed for him to lose something so central rather than an arm or leg, just to show Mike what he's capable of. "You can move where I put you, nothing more." And Harvey is back on the bed, and a soft length of rope is being dragged along the same line as the wartenburg wheel and he whines again, too into the scene to be embarrassed by the sounds coming from him. Harvey's capable hands lift his hips and wrap rope around him a few times, the intricate design difficult to follow from under the blindfold. In reality it's a fairly simple hip harness that takes Harvey less than 5 minutes to pull together, tightening and checking tension and comfort along the way. He then ties in another length of rope and secures the harness to an eye-bolt screwed conveniently into either side of his bed. This isn't the first time he's played this particular game.

Mike resists the urge to test the new restriction, knowing it would just earn him more, and tries to settle back in. The time that Harvey spent on the rope was an entirely too welcome reprieve from the overwhelming sensation, but the feeling of being bound and held tight to Harvey's bed is definitely not helping his erection at all. Which is not helping the restless energy coursing through his whole body now. 

The next thing Mike knows, the pinwheel is back against his skin, still barely any pressure and Mike isn't worried at all about Harvey drawing blood. It's not something they've discussed and Harvey is too careful. This isn't about pain, it's about sensation and obedience and they both know that. The wheel criss-crosses his chest and Harvey takes advantage of some of the sensitive and ticklish spots he found on his first round of exploration. 

"Shit, fuck, Harvey, oh god this is so hard I'm trying so hard, shit shit shit oh my GOD that just isn't-- it isn't fair you already know oh god please please please please..." And Mike doesn't even know what he's begging for, doesn't know what question he's asking or what he wants but he can't stop asking, can't stop talking and whining and he's coming undone, really losing it for the second time today and by god if the come-down from this day isn't going to be epic but that doesn't matter yet. Harvey has moved his attention down to Mike's lower body, the pinwheel tracing lines across the tops of his muscular thighs and dipping ever so slightly toward the tender inner thigh and he knows he's going to lose something soon. 

Then the sensation stops and Harvey's weight is gone again. He comes back with a piece of... Fabric? Fur? Mike really can't be sure, but it's sweeping up and down his right leg, a decent amount of pressure from the fingers behind it feeling a little bit like a massage. The hand on him moves up and down, up and down, coming closer and closer to his ankle with each pass and he's openly moaning now, loving the attention his muscles are getting after tensing up so much through the morning bike ride, the spanking, and now this. He isn't really sure what happens because he could swear his legs were relaxing and well under his control, but something catches the right nerve and he yelps and his leg twitches away from Harvey's touch and he knows he's lost it.

"Strike two." That's all Harvey says before reaching for another length of rope and placing his bare hands on Mike's ankle. Mike is expecting him to tie it down or out, pushing his position to spread-eagle or just enforcing what he's already holding, but something else is happening. Harvey takes his ankle and pushes up, bending Mike's knee and bringing it in close to his ass, making the position a little awkward but not uncomfortable. His ankle is quickly secured in a simple wrap before Harvey does something complicated with the hip harness and Mike can't move his leg, can't push it out any further than it currently sits. It's also secured across his right leg to the rope holding him to the bed, with enough slack that he can lean his knee against it, but it won't splay out, stretching his hip painfully. Harvey really has done this before, he's thinking of things Mike would never have considered. 

Their game continues (and Mike is just now realizing this really is a game, something fun and lighthearted but nonetheless holding the message Harvey wants, but also acting as a test of their compatibility and isn't Harvey's mind a terrifying place) like this, Harvey slowly escalating his technique and switching off implements here and there so Mike is constantly off balance. He loses his right arm and somehow his whole upper chest before he's nearly crying again, begging a little mindlessly. He can't have any way of knowing but his whole body is flushed a soft shade of red, blotched here and there with darker red in places he might have slight abrasion marks later. Harvey sits back and admires his work, his usually articulate and focused associate lost and dropped and openly admitting his need for a wide range of things and his promises to do anything Harvey wants if he can just come or move or something. 

"Harvey, please, I can't take anymore, please just hold me." And in that instant it's over, the line has been drawn and Mike has done exactly as he asked. Harvey crowds in close to his left side, hyper aware of the lines of red hemp crossing Mike's body and his own bed. Mike hasn't asked to be untied yet, though he's slowly starting to test the tension in the ropes, so Harvey leaves him where he is. He just pulls himself in close to Mike's side and gets one arm underneath him, wrapping Mike's smaller form in his, tilting Mike's head into his shoulder and just holding on until the stream of incoherent begging has tapered off and Mike's breath is calming but he's pulling more at the rope and moaning softly. Harvey gently tilts Mike's face up to his and kisses him again, and it's not nearly the frantic rush of their last kiss, but something sweet and soft and needy. 

"Are you ready for the rope to come off?" Harvey asks when the kiss is done and Mike just nods, settling into the plush comforter as Harvey pulls away from him again. He begins the methodical process of removing the rope, untying each knot and spending a little time rubbing circulation and comfort into the rope marks. Mike had been careful not to move too much even against the rope restricting him, so nothing has bruises, but there are deep indentations around his wrist and ankle in particular. Harvey dumps the rope somewhat unceremoniously onto the floor at the end of his bed, knowing he will need to wash, condition, and rewrap it all sometime later that day. But for now there is a needy and obedient young man in his bed and he isn't one to pass that up. Mike has stretched out again, only moving as much as Harvey's hands guided him, still a little lost in the rules of their game, and Harvey doesn't push. He strips out of his new t-shirt and pulls his belt off, leaving the blue jeans on for Mike's comfort and his own, before getting back into bed to wrap himself around Mike again. Mike reacts a little to feeling Harvey's bare chest, pushing himself even closer into his embrace.

"I'm going to take the blindfold off now, but your eyes will be sensitive. Leave them closed for a bit to adjust." Mike nods and Harvey pulls it off, throwing it in the general direction of his nightstand. He can deal with that later too. Mike's eyes stay closed.

Mike is still making soft mewling noises every so often, and from the look of things, his erection must be bordering on painful. Harvey runs his hands firmly down Mike's ribs and down over his hip, then pulls one thigh up and over so Mike's legs are straddling one of his as they lay chest to chest. Mike opens his eyes suddenly, trying not to flinch as he meets Harvey's gaze, and he looks wrecked, absolutely obscene. His eyes are bright and a little wet, looking like he'd almost begun to cry again at some point. His lips are chewed and licked to nearly seem bruised from his effort to keep himself still. There's still a flush high in his cheeks, and need written across every inch of him. But he stays still because even with the physical invitation, Harvey hasn't given him permission yet and he's far gone enough to need it.

"You can move however you want now, puppy." Harvey murmurs. "Take what you need." And Mike requires no more prodding, starting by gently rocking his hips to get the friction he wants against Harvey's thigh. For a moment his expression goes confused and vulnerable again before Mike closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. He's been given permission now and this is clearly a reward for a game well played, he knows that. Mike ramps up the pressure and speed at his own pace, Harvey endeavoring to stay still except for roaming hands (pressure always firm to fight the overstimulation that can easily come after a heavy sensory scene), and soft encouragement falling from his mouth. It isn't very long at all before Mike makes one of the most obscene, arousing, and beautiful sounds Harvey's ever heard, hips stuttering and upper body shaking, and comes in his boxer briefs. It's one of the hottest moments he's experienced without taking his pants off, and Harvey has no lack of practice there.

Mike is an absolute mess, mentally, emotionally and physically. He's just come in his underwear like some sort of randy teenager, but it feels right. It feels good. Okay, in about two minutes it's going to feel sticky and gross, but for now he can just revel in all of the things he's felt and experienced over the past few hours. Harvey's will, Harvey's control, Harvey's absolutely devious creativity, Harvey's unexpected ability to nurture and encourage. When Harvey tries to pull away, probably to do something responsible like start cleaning up, Mike just makes a soft protesting noise and holds him tighter. He presses his face to Harvey's bare shoulder and keeps him close. Harvey almost seems like he might press the issue... But instead he shrugs and readjusts them slightly so Mike is laying on top of him, wrapped fully in his arms. Neither man thinks they can be blamed for falling asleep in that moment, just drifting in the safety and warmth of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, y'all I really wasn't expecting this fic to get any attention at all. This many kudos and hits may not be that many at all, but it's a lot for me, especially in a day.
> 
> I'm predicting that I've got one more chapter before I wrap this baby up, but who knows what might happen. I can pretty much promise I won't be able to post the next one nearly as quickly. I've got a lot going on in my life, and I have some details to work out here that will take some time.
> 
> Also oh my god I will be going back to fix the tense shifts and weird typos. I needed to publish or I would second guess myself too much.


	4. Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation that has to happen

The negotiation conversation comes with time. As both Harvey and Mike had asserted earlier, it was inevitable, and crucial to their continued relationship. They needed to talk about what this meant for them, whether it would continue, and how they would behave with each other going forward. Mike and Harvey spent the rest of that Saturday afternoon in bed, Harvey doing his best to make sure Mike was comfortable and felt safe now that his punishment was received and his own point made. Before Harvey sends him home (in a cab rather than taking his bike for obvious reasons) he tells Mike to make a list that night of anything he can think of that they need to discuss. Harvey would make his own list, and they would sit down for the conversation the following night for dinner.

Mike is… a little disgruntled that he has to wait 24 hours, but he knows that Harvey is doing his best to keep them both safe, and to give Mike enough time to process the change that has happened without feeling pressured. They have to have the conversation before they’re back in the office on Monday, however, that much is obvious. Mike goes home, curls up on his couch (aesthetically inferior to Harvey’s, but decidedly more comfortable) with a blanket, a cup of coffee, and honest to god pen and paper. Sure, he could put the list together in his head and read it back to Harvey word for word without worrying that he’d forgotten anything, but Mike wants to work through his own thoughts in a physical form. Sometimes it helps.

Starting the list is easy. He throws the header “Hard Limits” at the top, underlines it once, and starts writing. Excessive blood, scat play, scars, abandonment, and a few other obvious things follow after the header with little thought. He had started making this list when he started his research back in college, and it had grown rather than diminished over time. He knew what things were absolutely off the table. Once that was taken care of, Mike flips to the second page and takes a second to think. Putting together a list of his hard limits assumed that this relationship would continue. It assumed that he wants it to, but more importantly, that Harvey does. He realizes this assumption is probably not a great idea, so the second page of his notes gets the question “Is this something you want to do?” at the top of it. The question is aimed at himself and at Harvey for when they talk the next day. Mike is pretty sure he’s all in at this point, as long as Harvey wants him to be. The peace he’s feeling now, knowing that his transgressions had been noticed and then dealt with was incredibly comforting to him.

The next question that goes on the list is “What is this, exactly?” quickly followed by a string of qualifiers and clarifiers: “Would we date? Can we date under Pearson Hardman rules? Does Jessica need to know? Oh god, does Donna know?” The last question pulls an audible groan from him as he sits there writing, and he flushes and covers his face with his hands. Donna definitely knows. Donna always knows. Mike takes a long drink from his mug of coffee, and sits trying to process that information for a few minutes before returning to his notes.

\--

Back in his apartment, Harvey Specter is making the same sort of list. He’s trying to be practical and maintain some sort of distance from the situation. He knows what he wants, but he can’t be sure of what Mike wants until they talk. What he’s doing now is managing his expectations. Harvey wants Mike, 100%, every meaning of the word. Wants the man in his bed, in his office, kneeling at his feet. However, he knows that Mike has an independent (stubborn) streak a mile and a half wide, and he’s preparing himself for his associate’s outright rejection. Of course he can go back to things the way they were. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have made this overture to Mike in the first place without talking about it. He really doesn’t want that though.

After spending the amount of time he needs to prepare himself for the worst few possible options, Harvey starts preparing for the best. He makes his own list of limits. At the top of his list is “infidelity”. Non-monogamy is absolutely an option, but it would need to be transparent and honest. He won’t have someone sneaking around behind his back, making a fool of him, or breaking his trust. There follows a list of things that he’s simply not comfortable or interested in doing, and another list of soft limits that he would try if it was really something Mike wanted.

Harvey’s notes also have a page titled “definition of terms (idiot)”. What he really wants from Mike is detailed here, including but not limited to rights to praise and punish in a way that may actually be effective. Some measure of control over wardrobe, a sexual relationship, a romantic relationship- not written in so many words, but described nonetheless- a few other things that would make him happy. This page also includes what he is prepared to offer: care, guidance, pain (for punishment but also for fun), discretion.

\--

They work out the details over dinner the next night, back at Harvey’s apartment. Somewhat unsurprisingly, their needs are fairly well matched. Mike wants someone who can take him out of his head. Harvey wants to take someone apart and rebuild them. Mike has been almost painfully attracted to Harvey since the moment he found himself in a hotel conference room with a briefcase full of weed and a fake name. Harvey’s story is similar, though he’s willing to admit less. They don’t make any promises to each other yet, except that they will be careful of each other at work. Harvey’s expectations are that Mike will challenge him as much as usual, and that Mike is absolutely free to bring to him the concerns of an employee and subordinate and those conversations have no bearing on this other aspect of their relationship. Mike makes abstract comments about better behavior in the office, but both men know this is unlikely. Neither has been in a strictly monogamous relationship in years, and as Harvey has a few informal commitments in the local scene, it doesn’t seem worth it to either one to start their new relationship outside of their normal patterns. Mike has an undying puppy crush on Rachel Zane anyway, and Harvey is honestly too bemused to shut that down any time soon.

\--

Jessica does need to know. Company policy doesn’t strictly prohibit dating between employees, even those of disparate ranks, but their are protocols in place to prevent sexual harassment and exploitation. Transparency is one of those protocols, and while Jessica doesn’t ask any details of their relationship, she does hint at knowing some of Harvey’s preferences in such a way to make Mike’s face flame with blush before sending them both out of her office.

Donna’s comments are decidedly worse. 

Mike is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much not the final chapter I initially envisioned writing for this, and I definitely didn't think it would take me 3 months to get it written, but I appreciate all the kudos and hits and everything else. Thanks for sticking with me through my first finished fic.

**Author's Note:**

> So this baby is totally un-beta'd and not exactly my first attempt at writing fic, but my first work in the fandom and the first that I really believe I'll finish. I'm really almost there. It's also my first attempt at the 5+1 format, so I hope I got it right.


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